


Flowers for Frigga

by garconne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Birthday, F/M, Frigga Feels, Loki Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:25:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2005707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garconne/pseuds/garconne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years after her death, Asgard celebrates Frigga's Day in honor of the late queen's birthday. Loki agrees to attend with Sif for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers for Frigga

**Author's Note:**

> Update 4/2016: You can now read this fic in Russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4274816)!

Sif awoke to the sound of the bell towers chiming as dawn broke in Asgard. She stirred and, looking to her left, saw her husband still asleep beside her. She blinked her eyes and watched him breathe for a moment. She knew she needed to rise, but after the bells stopped, she curled up against him, pulling the sheet with her, her cheek on his chest. She felt a subtle swell of dread. He hadn’t said anything about the day, but he never did. In years past, he’d disappear as soon as the ceremony was set to begin and reemerge that night, well after supper, when everyone had gone home. She wanted to believe this time might be different. 

After the bells had chimed twice more, and sunlight crept over the balcony into the room, Sif got up to bathe and dress. She was standing before her mirror, securing one side of her hair with a metal clip when she heard Loki finally stir and get up. 

“Good morning,” she said, seeing him coming up behind her. 

“ _You_ look beautiful,” he said upon seeing her silver gown. 

Sif turned to him. 

“I’d like you to come with me today,” she said, cautious but hopeful. 

Loki said nothing. 

“I know you’ve never come before. But, well, we’re married now, and it’s a beautiful festival. There’s really no reason you shouldn’t come.” 

Her heart fluttered. Loki sighed, his nose flaring with a heavy breath. 

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. 

Sif blinked. She hadn’t expected to convince him so easily. She had already prepared a more persuasive case to reason with him. Frigga’s Day was a yearly holiday celebrating the late queen’s birthday, as was customary after the passing of an Asgardian ruler. She understood why Loki would bow out, but she so wished for him to witness the beautiful ceremony that honored his mother. Frigga had been beloved by her kingdom, and her birthday was a grand affair, even decades after her death. 

“Have you had any breakfast?” Loki asked, pulling on a shirt. 

Sif was still staring at him, trying to figure out what game he was playing. 

“No, I haven’t,” she said. 

“I’ll fetch some down at the tavern,” he said. He always woke up hungry. 

The halls were a mess of people, hurrying in every direction, with decorations and flowers and food. And then there was Loki, walking through the crowd with his hair uncombed, trying to ignore them all. He was ready for the day to be over. 

Traversing a courtyard, he squinted in the morning sunlight and dodged a crowd of families, heading through the lowest level of the palace, probably coming to and from breakfast themselves. A group of children were running and laughing, and as he came up to the tavern, he heard a boy shouting  _Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!_  in the distance. 

Instead of a bustling scene of dining customers, he found the room empty, all the tables covered with bread and fruit - presumably ready for the feast that would follow the ceremony. He took up a loaf and a few ripe plums, and then headed back the way he came, sinking his teeth into the soft fruit. 

His mother had loved plums. They were always in season on her birthday, and she’d slice them over a stack of warm cakes for breakfast, or toast a split plum over a flame and eat it with cream and nuts for dessert, sharing bites with both of her sons. As children, Loki and Thor had presented their mother with gifts each year, and a basket of ripe plums or a bouquet of her favorite pink flowers were a sure success. As they grew a bit older, their gifts were more elaborate. Thor would predictably chose jewelry, some lavish brooch or golden-stringed necklace, while Loki was more inclined for a creative effort - a painting, a small sculpture, or even an embroidery, one year. He’d given up crafting as young man, as he became more aware of Odin’s disdain for the hobby. 

“I’m back,” he said through a mouthful of plum as he returned to the chamber and set the food on the table. 

“There you are,” Sif said, coming forward and tearing off a peice of bread. “Did you steal this from the banquet?” 

She sounded more amused than accusatory. 

“I think I showed commendable restraint.” 

“Mmmm,” she sighed, enjoying the fresh, fluffy hunk of bread. “You better get dressed.”

Taking some bread for himself, Loki headed over to their closet to dress: a simple ensemble of black leather over a green tunic, and then combed his hair. The bells chimed again while he was looking in the mirror. 

Sif was waiting by the door when he came back to her, and he noticed again how lovely she looked in her silver gown with her hair down. 

“That’s a bit casual, isn’t it?” she asked, biting her tongue a moment too late. 

She shook her head before he could answer. 

“Sorry. You look nice. You know I like you in green.” 

Loki just smirked a little and kissed his wife in what might be their last moment alone for the day. Afterward, Sif pointed her elbow at him and he linked his arm through hers, leading her down the steps to the corridor. 

Sif was feeling optimistic about the day, now that Loki was escorting her and didn’t seem wary about the occasion. And with the sun shining and a pleasant spring breeze in the air, she couldn’t help but smile as they headed into the grand hall among the crowd. Sif always enjoyed Frigga’s Day. She thought it a fitting custom to honor the queen she had idolized. 

As they headed outside, Loki was inwardly glad to notice that they weren’t too close to the front of the gathering. But then, as people recognized them, they began to step aside, briefly bowing their heads in respect, until the two of them stood right at the water’s edge, where a cooler wind whipped their hair. 

Loki could see straight across the water to the fall and the other side of the bank, where the crowd wrapped around. As he was studying the view, the person on his right tapped his shoulder and passed him a basket of pink pond lilies. He stared at them for a moment and passed the basket to Sif without taking one. She gave him a look and handed him one of the flowers, took one for herself, and sent the basket along. Sif watched him cup the blossom in his hands and look down at it, and she wondered where his head was. Loki hadn’t anticipated such active participation in the ceremony. 

No sooner had the baskets been passed through the crowd than the horn sounded, and the king processed down the steps to set the first flower in the water. Loki was glad he couldn’t see Odin from where they were standing, the decrepit oaf. He knew he couldn’t expect to see Thor at all, as he was in Midgard tending to his aging mortal. And then a single pink flower came into view, floating out to the fall, all alone, a speck on the blue current. The horn sounded again, and everyone on the front row stooped to let their flowers go. Loki was a moment behind them, watching Sif delicately place her bloom onto the surface, letting her fingers dip into the water but not the petals. He looked at his own flower, a bowl of pointed petals encircling a bright yellow eye, and let it sail with the others. 

The new cluster of pale pink overwhelmed the sparkling water as the blossoms glided out toward the fall. Sif stepped back to let the next row come forward, but Loki didn’t notice. He was still crouched by the edge, watching the flowers twirl and flow, heading for the drop. He couldn’t help but acknowledge that his mother would have loved the sight, and suddenly, he was a child and her voice was in his ear:  _Are you watching the flowers, Loki? Look, how pretty. Can you believe how many there are?_  

Sif almost touched Loki’s shoulder to get him to move away from the edge, but stopped short when she saw his face. He looked like he was trying to catch his breath. She was stunned for a moment, and then looked away, back at the water, knowing she mustn’t draw attention to him. But her heart was pounding. 

A second wave of flowers followed the first, and Loki was suddenly up, turned and marching back through the crowd, the way they’d come. Sif caught a glimpse of his face, downcast and seemingly anguished, as he passed by, and made no move to follow him. She didn’t want to make the moment worse by appearing too concerned. She turned to watch him go, but he was gone, disappeared into the crowd, probably having assumed an illusion. Sif sighed. 

After the ceremony, the crowd began to head into the grand hall for the banquet. Sif briefly caught up with her family - her parents and Heimdall, who was free to attend the festivities with the bifrost dormant for the holiday. She couldn’t stay and eat, though, wondering where her husband had gone, and so she headed back to their chamber. She found the room empty, a pleasant breeze coming off the balcony. She stepped out into the sunlight and noticed how beautiful the view of the water was from there - a few stragglers giving late flowers to the sea. She thought about returning to the banquet since Loki clearly didn’t want to be found. Then, the bells rang again, and standing there up high with the water and the sound of the bells, she had an idea. Instead of heading back down, she headed up, to the nearest tower, where the main palace bell hung. It was sure to offer a flawless view of the water. Coming up the stairs, she wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. And there he was, perched in the window, one foot on the ground, the other knee bent. 

The air in the tower was cool and crisp and quiet. Loki didn’t turn to her, but he knew she had come. 

“I didn’t miss the others,” he said. “I’ve always watched from here.” 

“It’s a beautiful view,” she offered. “I think she’d be glad you came today.” 

“Do you?” he asked, his voice low and bitter. 

“Of course. Your mother loved you, Loki.” 

“And look what that got her,” he scoffed. 

Sif was suddenly uneasy about him sitting in the window. She had a fleeting thought of him letting himself topple down onto the spiked gate below and had to shake the image from her mind. 

“Loki,” she pleaded, “how could you still blame yourself all this time?” 

Loki wiped his nose on his sleeve. 

“I told him where to go that day,” he said, giving voice to the secret that had consumed him. 

His heart pounded in his chest. But Sif was only sympathetic, not shocked. 

“It’s not as if you could have stopped them from your cell. Frigga died protecting Jane Foster. Protecting all of us. That was her choice. Maybe Thor should have stayed with Jane. Maybe I should have taken her when I saw her with your mother that day. Any one of us could have done something differently, but it’s not what happened. Your mother fought to protect us.” 

“She wasn’t my mother,” Loki replied in a low mumble. “That’s what I told her.” 

Sif was quiet for a moment. She could hear the sadness in Loki’s voice even as he tried to hide it. She tried to think about what Frigga might say. And then, she remembered something. 

“Do you know what she told me, when we thought you were dead? After your funeral.” 

Now Loki looked at her, and she saw his rosy nose. It was surreal to see him so unraveled. 

“Yes, as you’ve told me. She regretted not telling me of my origin earlier.” 

“That was part of it, yes.” 

Sif recalled how Frigga had sadly confessed that she’d wanted to tell Loki about his true heritage, but she could never bring herself to do it.  _I loved them both so much, my heart couldn’t tell the difference._ A tingle shot up Sif’s spine at the memory. 

“But there was something else. I left it out before. This was later, after the meal, when almost everyone else had gone. She asked me what I had thought of you. I was so caught off guard I couldn’t answer. But she told me she couldn’t shake the thought that she should have known you weren’t ready for the throne. She said it broke her heart to think how alone and angry you must have felt. She said she hoped that you knew how much she loved you, and how she understood what you had tried to do as king, even if everyone else thought you mad.” 

Sif remembered passing Frigga a napkin at that point, but maintained composure as she spoke to Loki now. A pigeon landed in the window to her left, bobbing its head as she continued. 

“She said,  _My poor son. I hope he knew how much he meant to me._ ” 

“Stop,” came Loki’s voice, barely audible. He was looking away again. 

“It’s true, Loki. She loved you more than anyone else did. And you must miss her more than I could ever know. If there’s a better word for her than mother, I haven’t heard it.” 

Sif didn’t expect a response, but Loki spoke again. 

“She was foolish for it.” 

“For loving you? Then I must be the most foolish person in Asgard.” 

Loki looked at her and then down again, saying nothing. Sif was more than finished holding her breath over him sitting in the window and walked over to him, embracing him from the side with one arm, her cheek against his shoulder. 

“And all the more foolish for letting my happiness depend upon yours,” she said into his shirt as Loki kissed her head, breathing in the pretty fragrance on her clean hair. 

He put an arm around her and she held him tighter. 

“Did you ever answer her question?” he asked. 

Sif looked up at him. 

“I told her I wished someone could have saved you. I still do.” 

Loki came down from the window, held her head in his hands, and kissed her. Sif looked up at him for a moment, and then the bell started to move, timed to ring on the hour. The pigeon flew away. Loki swiftly covered Sif’s ears, and as the sound engulfed them, rested his forehead against hers. Sif could barely breathe or think for the power of the sound coming through her chest and steadied herself against her husband, waiting for it to pass. 

 _You did_ , he said while his voice was still too small to hear. 

After the bells had chimed, they descended the steps together, stopping at the base of the tower. 

“Let’s go visit her,” Sif suggested, thinking of Frigga’s monument in the palace gardens. “No one will be around; they’re all at the banquet.” 

Loki seemed to consider the idea, if only briefly. He shook his head. 

“I’ll see you later,” he replied, and kissed her temple. 

Sif nodded, and Loki turned to go. She watched him leave, and then made her way back toward the grand hall, where she found her family again and joined the feast. Later, she joined her friends for dancing, and they all stepped outside to catch a glimpse of the parade. 

As evening fell, she decided to pay Frigga a visit after all. A group of visitors was heading the other way down the garden path, leaving Sif there in silence. Between a blooming magnolia tree and a sage bush, Frigga stood tall and strong in stone form, illuminated with small orb lanterns around the marble base. Sif looked down at the bundles and stacks of flowers visitors had left throughout the day. She couldn’t help but smile to see that so many had come. And then, as she was looking, she spotted something near Frigga’s foot; she almost missed it in the dark, some small object. She leaned in to see it, wondering if an orb had burned out. Looking closer, her heart missed a beat at the sight of a smooth, purple rind. It was a plum. 

The wind was chilly in the garden and Sif rubbed her arms. 

“Happy Birthday, my queen,” she said softly before she left, glancing again at the lone fruit among the flowers. 

Climbing the stairs to her chamber, Sif couldn’t be sure if she’d find Loki inside. She recalled the events of the day and felt as emotionally drained as she was physically.   

She breathed a sigh of relief to see him curled up on the bed when she came in. She hung her dress over a chair and thought she’d slip in behind him, but as soon as Loki felt her, he turned to her, still groggy with sleep, embraced her, and held her to his chest. Sif wrapped her arms around him, her cheek against his bare chest, and fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.


End file.
